boy on fire
by Tennielover19
Summary: Peeta is Katniss Katniss is Gale Gale is non existant And an OC is Peeta Wow that's really complicated. Basically Peeta is a boy from the Seam who volunteers for his little brother Row in the 74th annual HUNGER GAMES. For Peeta survival is second nature, but will a romance with his fellow tribute lead to some tension with his beloved friedn Katniss?


I woke up early in the morning, before the sun had fully risen, feeling cold. My hand wandered to the other side of the bed, seeking out my little brother, Row. He wasn't there. He must have had a bad dream and climbed into our Mother's bed. Of course he did. Today was the day of the reaping. I glanced over and through the dim light saw my mother and brother sleeping peacefully. Mother looks younger, still worn, but not entirely beaten down. Row looked as fresh as the berries of the rowan tree he was named for. Curled up next to Row's legs, resting, was what had to be the world's ugliest dog. Scrunched nose, chunks of fur missing everywhere, peices of its ear missing, and the eyes the color of the sludge that pours out of the rain spouts. Row calls it chocolate, trying to convince me that its sickly green-brown coat resembled the rare dessert. The dog hates me. I'm fine with that. It's a mutual dislike. I think it remembers my attempt to get rid of it. The last thing I had needed was another mouth to feed, but Row insisted, so I let him keep it.

I groggily get up off the bed and pull on my hunting boots, the leather so worn that it had fit to the shape of my feet. I pull on pants, a loose shirt, and pull on a cap before grabbing my forage bag. On the table, under a wooden bowl to protect it from rats, sits goat cheese wrapped in bay leaves. My reaping day gift rom Row. I put the cheese into my bag carefully, and head outside.

The part of District 12 that we live in, nicknamed the Seam, is usually full of coal miners heading to the morning shift at this early hour. Men and women here have long since stopped trying to scrub the coal dust out of the lines on their sunken faces. Today the black streets are empty, the shutters on the small disheveled houses are empty. The reaping starts at two. Might as well sleep in. If you can even sleep at all.

Our small excuse for a house is almost at the edge of the Seam. I only have to pass a few building to reach the scruffy field called the meadow. Between the Meadow and the woods is a chain-link fence topped with barbed wire. It is supposed to be electrified 24 hours a day as a shield from the predators in the woods - packs of wild animals, bears, cougars- that used to threaten our streets. But since we don't get much electricity in District 12, it's usually safe to touch. Even so, I usually check for the little hum that means the fence is on. Right now it is silent. Hidden by a couple of bushes, Is lay on the ground and slide under the meter long stretch of fence that has been loose for years.

As soon as I'm in the tree line, I retrieve my bow and quiver full of arrows that is hidden in a hollow log. Outside of the district the flesh eating beasts roam freely. There are no paths to follow. My father taught me how to hunt for food, but he died in an explosion in the mines. I was eleven then, now, five years later, I still wake up screaming for him.

Even though leaving the District is illegal, so is poaching, more people would risk it if they had weapons. But most are not bold enough to head out with just a knife. My bow is a rarity, my father made it for me, as well as a few other I have hidden throughout the woods. My father could have made lots of money selling them, but if the Peacekeepers found out, he would be publicly executed for "starting a rebellion". Most of the Peacekeepers turn a blind eye, because like the rest of us, they crave fresh meat.

In autumn, a few brave souls head into the woods to harvest apples, but always in sight of the meadow

"District 12," I mutter, "where you can starve in safety."

I glance over my shoulder. Even here, you worry that someone might hear you. When I was younger I would scare my mother to death, blurting out things about District 12, the people who rule our country, Panem, far off in the Capitol. I learned that this would lead to trouble, so I held my tongue. I learned to keep a mask of indifference, no one could ever read my thoughts. I did my work quietly in school, only made polite small talk, and trade. At home, where I am less pleasant, I avoid tricky topics. Like food, the reaping, the Hunger Games.

In the woods waits the only person who I can be myself with. Katniss. I can feel myself relaxing as I walk over to her. We stand on a rocky ledge over looking a valley. Katniss says I never smile outside the woods.

"Hey, Pete," says Katniss. My real name is Peeta, but when I first told him, I had barely whispered it. So she thought I had said Pete.

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**AWESOME NEW STORY R&R PLEASE**


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